


skin to skin

by thir13enth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, mentions of scars, slightly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8995573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: she still has many secrets to show.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for twelve days of shallura — prompt: heartbeat

When he sees the scar on her body, his heartbeat stops — and suddenly the premise of seeing the whole of her skin for the first time and satisfying the hard pulse at his core fades completely.

It’s a long and wide gash — too straight to be accidental and too deep to be unintentional. All he can think about it is how it looks so similar to the ones that track over his own back, the ones formed just over a year ago but now felt like decades since, the ones made by the vile and demonic, lustful and bloodthirsty —

“Where is this from?” he asks her, his fingertips running over the raised mark on her skin.

Her eyes open when she remembers she still has many secrets to show, even as he is undressing her completely bare tonight. She watches him watch her, she looks into his eyes as intensely as he looks into hers — him asking for the truth, her not wanting to ruin the moment — and only after a long pause, she defers.

Her lips press tight together for a moment. “When they took over Altea,” she tells him.

His chest tightens. He feels his teeth clench together. He swallows.

“…sorry,” is all that he can muster.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she reminds him.

He hesitates, not comfortable enough to not at least apologize. There’s something that makes seeing the scar on her skin hurt more than the marks of his own body. To anyone else, his scars are ornaments on his flesh, decorating him with past brave and valiant efforts — a survivor despite horrifying past. But to him, her scar doesn’t look at all like any worth at all except for a broken heart and many shed tears.

“I know,” he replies, his eyes following the mark on her skin. “But I know what it feels like to be guilty, and what it feels like to be ashamed.”

She holds her breath, taking in his words.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeats, in a quiet exhale, pressing her face into his chest.

She sounds like she might just cry, so he just holds her — and for how long he doesn’t know, for however long, he doesn’t really care.

“Thank you,” she tells him, whenever after.

She raises her head from the crook of his neck and presses a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw.

She sharply exhales — a second later, he realizes was a quiet laugh — and moves her lips to the shell of his ear. He hears her smile.

“Sorry,” she says, lightly. “I didn’t mean for this to interrupt us.”

He turns his head toward her, looks her in the eye — sees that they’re bright and healing, not dampened and falling — and he leans in to kiss her lips gently.

He feels her hands travel back down his chest, fingers twirling around the thickening line of hairs down past his waist, and he before she gets any further, he stops her, catching her wrist.

“Only if you want to,” he says.

She smiles.

“Oh, I _definitely_ want to,” she reassures him, guiding his hand up along the supple curves of her chest.

“Well then,” he replies, ducking his head down to take a hardened tip between his lips.

And when her fingers wrap around his length, when she kisses him and then squeezes, his heart starts again.

**Author's Note:**

> ugh i don't know if i transitioned from one emotion to another too quickly or even properly i hate this


End file.
